


How Crazy This Life Feels

by embroiderama



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Always Female Dean, Gen, Genderswap, Mary Lives, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 18:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2161194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dee had thought that maybe her mother was on the run from the law, like the hippie parents in that River Phoenix movie. She never expected to be clutching her rifle and following her mother into a haunted house, especially not on a school night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Crazy This Life Feels

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to P who rescued me when I couldn’t figure out how to get this story written and to W and H for betaing. This was written for spn-summergen 2012 for kalymnos for the prompt, “Genderswap, John dies/Mary lives AU. Always-a-Girl!Dean's first hunt with her mother.” 
> 
> In the intervening two years, I never actually posted this to my LJ and just randomly discovered its existence. *mindboggled*

Dee sat in the passenger seat with her rifle clutched in her hands and watched her mother drive. She was going too fast, squealing the Impala around corners, and she was _never_ so careless, even when she was spooked and dragging them out of town the way she did every few years. All those times, Dee had never seen her mother look truly scared, but now her eyes were wide as she stared out through the windshield at the dark road in front of them and her mouth was tense and turned down at the corners.

Dee had a lot of stories she told herself about why their lives were so weird. She remembered her father--how good it had felt to be held way up high in his arms with his beard scratching against her cheek but also how his voice sounded when he was fighting with Mom--and she remembered a fire, but Mom would never tell her any details and there was nobody else to ask. She wondered if maybe they were on the run from the law, like the hippie parents in that River Phoenix movie, but no cops ever bothered them, and she couldn't believe her mother would really hurt anyone.

And then sometimes she thought that maybe her father wasn't really dead, maybe they’d been running from _him_ for eleven years, but that made her feel sick inside. It couldn't be true. The only thing that ever made sense was that Mom just didn't like to stay in one place. Every few years they'd move to a new town with new schools and a new job for Mom, but she didn't act like somebody who was scared or hunted...or crazy.

She hadn't liked it when Dee wanted to learn to shoot, but Dee pushed and pushed and pleaded for the cheapest rifle at Wal-Mart for her thirteenth birthday. When she opened her presents there was a rifle ten times nicer than what she'd asked for, but still light and just the right size, and Mom had a weird look in her eyes but she signed Dee up for lessons and only lectured her about safety one time.

The rifle was always locked up, always locked away from Sammy. And after two years of practice, Dee was a damn good shot.

"Where's your brother," Mom had said when she got home early from work, a newspaper clutched in her hand, her eyes intent and strange.

"He's out playing with that friend of his. Ryan or whatever." Dee wasn't really worried; it wasn't all the way dark out yet, and she had English homework that she was trying not to screw up.

"Where did they go?"

"Dunno," Dee mumbled, focusing on the boring book in her hands until Mom's hand covered the text and snatched the book away from her.

"I don't ask a lot of you when it comes to your brother, but you need to do better than this. Think, where did they go?"

Dee looked up and started to roll her eyes then stopped when she saw the strange, intent look on her mother’s face. "God, Mom. He's eleven, I'm sure they're just out doing something stupid and annoying."

Mom put her hand under Dee's chin and looked her right in the eyes, her voice slow and controlled as she asked, "Did he say anything about an old house?"

"I think so maybe."

Mom took her hand away and turned around, her hands on her hips. "Damn it," she whispered harshly. "Damn it. There's nobody who can get here soon enough. Damn it."

"Mom?" Dee swallowed hard. "What's going on?"

Mom took a couple of deep breaths and when she turned around she didn't look panicked anymore. "Go change into some real shoes, put on a jacket, and grab your rifle."

"My rifle?"

"Do it!" She pointed at the stairs that led up to Dee's bedroom and then turned to head back toward the laundry room.

Dee ran upstairs and changed her flip-flops for hiking boots. She put a denim jacket on over her flannel shirt and then got her rifle and bullets from the locked cabinet in her closet. When she got back downstairs, Mom was stuffing some tools along with lighter fluid and the fancy sea salt from the kitchen into a duffel bag. When she turned around, Dee saw a handgun tucked into the back of her jeans. Her mouth went dry with sudden panic because this was not her mother, not the way she'd ever seen her before.

Then Mom looked up and frowned for a moment before sighing and shaking her head. "Look at you. Your grandmother would be so proud."

"What?" Dee had tried to get information about her grandparents for school projects, but Mom had never told her anything and Dee figured her mother must have been adopted or something. Left on a doorstep, hatched from an egg, something.

"Listen, we'll talk more later, once your brother is safe. For now, I need you to listen to me. I need you to not ask questions, just do what I say."

"But--"

"This isn't the time. The other kids who went in that house disappeared sometime between seven and nine p.m., and it's almost seven now. We have to go." Mom picked up her bag and brushed past Dee, heading toward the front door.

"What other kids?"

Mom turned on her heel and grabbed the front of Dee's jacket, shaking her. "I said no questions. Follow my lead, do what I say, and tomorrow when we're safe at home with Sam I'll tell you all the things I never wanted you to know. Okay?"

Dee stared into her mother's eyes and nodded. "Okay," she whispered.

"Good.” Mom pulled a box of ammunition out of her pocket and handed it over. “Use these bullets.”

"I have plenty of my own." _And what do you know about bullets anyway, Mom_ , she wanted to say but instead she just took the box in hand and looked down at the dull, handmade-looking bullets.

"These are special. Just do me a favor and don't shoot me or the boys."

Dee opened her mouth in indignation. "I won first place in the last competition. I'm not going to shoot anybody by accident. God, Mom!"

Mom smirked and nodded. "Good," she said, then turned to leave again, and this time Dee followed her.

The drive wasn't far, less than a mile away through the subdivision, but the drive seemed to take forever, the Impala taking the corners hard as they drove toward the ramshackle old house that only annoying middle school boys would find interesting. Even the high school pot heads had a better hangout. Mom parked at a sloppy angle in front of the old house and then turned that weird, intent look on Dee again.

"This is the mission: we go in, and if Sammy and his friend aren't sitting right there waiting for us then I find whatever's holding the spirit to this place, then I burn it and we get the boys out before the whole place goes up. You stay behind me, keep your eyes open, and if you see anything move that isn't a living, breathing person shoot it. If I tell you to get out, you get out and you remember that I love you."

Dee opened her mouth to ask a dozen questions--mission? spirit? ghosts? what? But she'd agreed not to ask questions so she just nodded her head. "Okay. Okay." She nodded again, then Mom turned to get out of the car and Dee followed.

Dee was never sure how long it took, the things that happened inside that house. It might've been ten minutes or an hour, but it started with Mom kicking in the door like a miniature version of Chuck Norris and ended with the both of them on their knees on the front lawn hugging two crying boys. The middle parts made even less sense--Dee shooting at a man-shaped thing that floated through the air and dissipated like a cloud when her bullets hit it but then came back together a minute later; Mom knocking holes in the walls and the floor and setting fire to something that smelled like dust and rot and death; the man-shaped thing turning into a man-shaped flame and then disappearing one final time.

And then a closet door opened, and Sammy came running out with his little friend behind him, his hair full of cobwebs and his face full of fear. When she had her little brother in her arms, Dee didn't care about the questions she wanted to ask. She didn't care about the smoke in her clothes or the bruise on her forehead or whether they were going to have to find a new place to live again. Sam was safe and Mom was safe, and wherever they were going they'd be together.


End file.
